


Feeling Rough/Getting Rougher

by wneleh



Series: Post-Survival Stories [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode: s02e22 Survival, Gen, Smarm, really there's quite a bit of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wneleh/pseuds/wneleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-ep for <i>Survival</i>, and a sequel to my "Chasing Sandburg."  Our favorite police observer has been shot, airlifted out of the wilderness in a swinging Stokes basket, and, by the time Jim catches up to him, is recovering from surgery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Rough/Getting Rougher

Feeling Rough/Getting Rougher  
by Helen W.

After _Survival_...

Blair's breathing shallowly, eyes clinched closed, and Jim knows what this means. Whether it's the lingering effects of that damn what-the-fuck airlift, or pain from the gunshot and subsequent surgery, or a side affect of the general anesthesia, or just delayed reaction from the past few days, Blair's looking rough and getting rougher.

Jim's already perched on the side of the bed, a hand on Blair's shoulder, and Blair has his forearm in a deathgrip. Jim has no idea what else he can do.

"Simon gone?" Blair asks, and Jim says, "Yeah, they're looking him over down in the ER," and the tension in Blair eases a little.

But only for a moment. "Raise my head," Blair says, and, as Jim tries to figure out how to operate the bed upside-down, Blair says, more desperately, "Where's the bowl?"

Jim presses the wrong button and Blair's feet start to rise and Blair's swearing and Jim gives up and grabs the emesis basin and hands it to Blair, who starts retching. Or trying to; nothing's coming up, though Blair strains harder and harder. Finally he gives up, exhausted, and Jim takes the bowl from his fingers as they unclench. Jim's figured out how to make the bed obey his will, and gets Blair's legs flat again, then guides Blair more back than down.

"I don't feel very good," Blair says; Jim takes the understatement to be an attempt at humor.

"Really? No shit," says Jim, and Blair says, "God, I hope not," and Jim chuckles a little, because if there's one thing general anesthesia's good for, it's slowing down the lower part of the digestive system.

Blair doesn't seem to be up to more conversation, though, just closes his eyes again and starts to shake, just a little.

"Are you going to be sick?" Jim asks. Blair shrugs and says, "With my luck… I'll probably just dry-heave all night…"

"That's the spirit," says Jim; and he's about to make some stupid joke about Blair and avoiding school and police work, or Blair and his luck in the great outdoors, or Blair and women (the kid'd scored a date with _Mara Farquhar_?) but Blair just looks too miserable, too vulnerable, so instead Jim hefts himself up onto Blair's bed and slides an arm around his shoulders.

Blair, still cradling the emesis basin, sighs and leans into him; unable to help himself, Jim leans in and places a quick kiss on the crown of Blair's head. "Thanks, man," Blair murmurs. "Did I ever tell you you're nothing like I thought you'd be?"

It's the longest sentence he's said since Jim's arrival, and Jim takes it as a sign he's doing the right thing. "How'd you think I'd be?"

"Arrogant. Distant. A real hard-ass."

Jim knows he can be all of those things. But if Blair sees something else, he's not going to argue. Instead he asks, "So, how am I really?"

"Mmm, comfy," says Blair, nuzzling in. Then, looking up a bit, he says, "For the record, I'm seriously drugged right now."

"Yeah, and in pain, and fighting nausea. Don't worry, chief, if anyone pokes their head in I've got us covered."

"Good," says Blair. "Got anywhere you need to be?"

"Not on your life," says Jim.

* * * THE END * * *


End file.
